


Watch Me Stand

by jackscrutchie



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Chapter 0, Child Abandonment, Fluff, I'm not tagging this with much yet because there's not much to tag, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Prologue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-08 15:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11084778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackscrutchie/pseuds/jackscrutchie
Summary: Follow Crutchie through his short life -- From the time he first met Jack Kelly and beyond.PrologueCharlie Morris was a bad kid. At least, that's what he was always told.





	1. Prologue

Charlie Morris was a bad kid. At least, that’s what he was told – So it must be true, right? His mother and father were always upset with him, and they disciplined him almost daily. Discipline. That’s what they said – So it must be true. Charlie was young, his parents were all he knew. Parents were always there. They were always right. They knew what was best. That’s what he was told. There was a little girl that lived in the small home across the street. Charlie liked to watch her play with her mom in the garden. Her dad gave her piggyback rides. She would laugh and give hugs and get kisses. She must be a good kid.

Charlie always tried so hard to be good, but he couldn’t figure out why he was bad. He always made sure that his little hands weren’t somewhere they weren’t supposed to be. He always made sure that if he was playing with a toy, he was quiet. He learned to hide his blankets if he ever had an accident. He was so small – It couldn’t be his parents fault that he was stepped on so often. His thin fingers bruised too easily under shoes. He should make sure to be out of the way.

He ate when he could. Maybe if he could grow faster he would be a good kid. There was rarely an abundance of food. He was small – He didn’t need much. That’s what they said, so it had to be true. They always told the truth – Even though they never said much to him.

“Outta the way.” His father always slurred his words. He always had a bottle with him.

“Scram!” His mother was louder.

He wondered if they would talk to him more if he were a good kid. The little girl across the street talked to her mother and father all the time. Charlie watched them outside on sunny days. They sat on the grass and had snacks, they read stories, they picked little flowers. He wished he could read. That was a good kid. What was the little girl doing that he wasn’t? He kept his voice quiet when he spoke his parents. He learned not to look them in the eyes. They didn’t like that at all.

Discipline.

Then he got sick. It started with a fever and a stomach ache – He cried and cried.

“Stop yer whinin’!” His father knocked him out of the way. He should have known better – But he was so sick. He was only a child.

“My tummy.” Charlie cried, wrapping his arms around himself. He shivered, sweat rolling down his red freckled cheeks. His nose was running – He threw up.

“Damn this boy!” The man yelled and cursed, roughly grabbing the back of the small boys shirt, dragging him down the short hallway. Charlie’s ears were ringing. He was a bad kid. He never did anything right. “Clean up!” He threw him to the ground of his small bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Charlie stayed on the floor. He cried. He cried and cried, wondering what he could do to please his parents. He could hear his mother and father yelling at each other.

Maybe if he slept and wished and dreamed hard enough, he’d wake up a good kid. Someone more like the little girl across the street. Someone like the kids that he knew got to go to school. Kids that got to go outside and play.

So he slept.

As the days passed, his condition worsened. He could remember being sick a few times before – But now his leg wasn’t working right. He could barely move it and the pain… Was unbareable. He limped to his parents, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Mama…” He cried, reaching his arms up. Begging for love, begging for anything.

And she picked him up. His heart was bursting – Did he do something right? He clung onto her, never wanting to let go. Willing her to keep him in her arms. She was walking now, out the door and down the street.

“Where are we goin’?” He asked, his voice hoarse from sobs. His eyes felt heavy.

“Doctor.” Was all she said. Charlie nodded and closed his eyes, trusting her word. What else could he do? His leg hurt, his head hurt, his stomach hurt – But for a moment, his heart was happy.

Charlie didn’t know how long he had been sleeping when he woke up. His eyes strained against the hard sunlight. Where…? He tried to focus his gaze. He remembered being carried by his mother.

Where was she?

“Mama?” He was – On the ground? He sat up and looked around. An alley way, behind a large dumpster. “Mama!” He panicked. Tears welled up in his eyes, his stomach queezy. Where did she go? He forced himself to stand, crying out in pain as his leg gave out – Completely useless. All of his weight on one foot, he hopped out into the open. There were pleanty of people. He looked frantically around at all of the faces. The buildings were huge – There were carriages and carts and… “Mama!”

People were looking now, whispering quietly to each other. “Wha’s a matter with his leg?” “Stay away from him.” “He looks diseased!”

“Mama!!” Charlie moved slowly, using the wall to support himself. “Mama help! I lost ya!” He would never be a good kid now.

He didn’t understand.

“Please, mista! I can’t find ‘er! My Mama!” He begged anyone who came close. He felt sick. “Please help, lady!” He reached out, tears pouring down his face. He was dizzy. He threw up.

“Argh! My shoes!” A man in a suit shook his foot, looking down at Charlie in disgust. He raised a hand. Charlie braced, sobs shaking his small frame. “Filthy little cr –”

“Hey!” A small voice called out from behind the man. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, huh?”

The man laughed and turned, scoffing at the small boy standing defiant behind him. “Get lost.”

“No. You get lost.” The boy crossed his arms, his feet planted firm. “Sorry ‘bout your shoe – But he’s sick. It ain’t his fault.”

A laugh. “Tch, kid. I ain’t got time for this.” He turned his gaze back to Charlie and scoffed, shook his soiled shoe in his direction and was off once more.

“Hey… You okay?” The boy walked slowly towards him. He was young… Maybe a year older than Charlie – Dark hair, blue eyes. A newsboy cap.

“Don – Don’t come over 'ere!” Charlie backed away, his leg still limp.

“Hey, I ain’t gonna hurt'cha. Ain’t nothin’ to worry about!” He smiled.

It was the kindest Charlie had ever had directed at him. This strange boy’s kind smile. He was missing a tooth. He had a bruise under one of his eyes.

“But I –” He looked down at the sick on the ground. “I –” His eyes filled again.

“No no no!” He held out his hands and took another few steps forward. “Don’t cry, kid! I’m here ta help yous!” Another step. He reached out his hand. “Where’s your folks?”

“I –” Tears fell. “I don’t… I don’t think I got none.” Charlie reached a trembling hand out for the stranger’s own. There were bright colors staining his skin. Blue and orange and green…

The boy’s brow furrowed, understanding. “Listen…” He held his hand tight. “I got some friends, yeah? They’s got a big ol’ house they stay at! Bunch of kids, just like you!” He smiled, reassuring and strong. “I’ll take ya there. And the fella that takes care of 'em, ol’ man Klopmann? He’d love ta have ya.”

“But I – I’m a bad kid.” Charlie dropped his head, his good leg getting tired. Shaky.

“Hey.” His voice hardened. “You ain’t a bad kid. Never. Not ever. You hear me?” He squeeze Charlie’s hand.

“But –”

“Nope. You’s is a good kid. I said so, and if I says you is, then you are!” His voice was back to normal now, the seriousness vanished. “So it’s settled and there ain’t no way to change it.”

Charlie looked up at him, his eyes puffy. He cried all of his tears away – He had none left.

“Hey… You’s gonna be okay.” His grip tightened gently again. “We’s friends now… I’m gonna take care of ya. I’m gonna make sure ya get better.” He turned his back and bent down. “Hop up here.”

Charlie tilted his head, unsure of what to do. He stared, his good leg threatening to give out from under him.

“Come on! Piggy back!” He gestured with his hands. “You get on my back, I carry you.”

Just like the little girl from across the street. Charlie hesitated for a moment. They were both so small – He leaned forward, attaching himself to the boy’s back. “Like… This?”

“Perfect!” The boy wrapped his arms back and around Charlie’s legs, very careful of the lifeless one and stood with no difficulty. “Hey, you’s is real light! Like a feather!” He laughed a bit and started walking, slowly. He was trying to make sure he wasn’t going to upset Charlie’s stomach again. He was being so gentle… “You got a name?”

No one had ever asked for his name before. His eyes stung again, his broken heart already mending. “Charlie.”

“Nice to meet'cha Charlie!” The boy beamed. “The name’s Jack Kelly.”


	2. Six - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie arrives at the lodging house -- Sick and fading fast.

So this boy, this Jack Kelly -- He could talk. He was strong and didn't once falter in his step. He walked with purpose, his head held high, a smile seemingly permanent on his face. Charlie clung onto his back as he walked, focusing on not being sick again. It wasn't too terribly hard now. There wasn't anything left in his stomach after all. Jack talked and Charlie listened. He listened to stories. Stories that didn't make sense to him at all -- Stories about love and friendship and acceptance... Happiness. Stories about his own mother who had recently passed away. Stories of his father breaking his back to take care of him. 

"You're gonna love it here with me and the fellas. Mostly I stay with my ol' man, but when he works real late, I like to stay at the lodgin' house with the other boys." He was trying to distract Charlie... Keep him awake. "Hey, you don't talk much, huh?"

Charlie leaned his head down, keeping quiet, not wanting to risk punishment. He didn't know this boy -- Not really. His eyelids were heavy. Jack remained quiet for a moment, giving him a chance to reply. He didn't.

"That's alright. You ain't gotta talk if you don't want to." He rounded a corner and shifted. Charlie felt himself slip and yipped, clinging tighter to Jack's back. "Whoa whoa! Hey it's okay! I got'cha!" He turned his head to the side, trying to get a look at Charlie's wide, scared eyes. "I ain't gonna let'cha fall. Don't worry!" 

Charlie was trembling now. If he fell -- What would happen to his leg? Would it break? Would it hurt more than it already did? Would he hit his head and fall asleep? What if he didn't wake up? Would that be better?

"Charlie." Jack's voice broke through Charlie's fear. He tried to relax, focusing on the feeling of Jack's thin arms holding him tighter. "I got'cha." 

Six.

Charlie's mind usually clouded with doubt. His mind was usually plagued by thoughts of wanting to sleep and never wake up. At only six years old -- His mind was too young to be thinking that way and yet... "Charlie."

Jack's voice again. His mind calmed, his muscles relaxed, tears fell.

Jack's face was twisted with concern. "You... You's gonna be okay." He picked up his pace, his vision set on a big building coming into view. The lodging house. "There -- See? We're already there! We's gonna get'cha all set up. Grab you a bite to eat, get'cha a bed and blanket... You's gonna get better in no time!"

Charlie's eyes dried up and he sniffled, lifting his head to examine his surroundings. The buildings were tall, there were people coming and going in every direction. The sky was darkening -- Thunder. "Ah... And a good thing too, huh?" Charlie could feel Jack tense. "Let's get'cha inside."

He closed his eyes. What now? Would he be locked in a small room again? Would he be allowed to see the outside again after this? Would he be punished for intruding? Mere moments felt like an eternity. He was only six.

"Hey! Finch, Racer, Spoons! Mr. Klopmann!" Jack kicked the door, not wanting to let go of the small boy attached to his back. "Open up fellas!"

A gentle voice called out from behind the door -- Charlie didn't open his eyes. Not yet. "Alright, alright! I'm comin'!" A click, squeak and a groan. "Kid, you know you don't have to -- You found someone, did you?"

"He's real sick -- Ain't got no where to go." 

"Folks?" The voice asked. It sounded older, obviously an adult.

Jack replied with a simple twist of his head. Charlie's chest tightened. 

"He ain't a runaway is he? You know the rules, Jack."

"No sir!" Jack interrupted, "And -- And I can pay for him!"

Charlie opened his eyes slowly, looking up to see the man that had opened the door. He was dizzy -- But the man had thin wired glasses, crow's feet and light lines in his skin. His hair was turning gray. He looked so kind. Charlie lifted his head slightly, his own eyes shining with tears.

Mr. Klopmann swatted at Jack, wrinkling his nose. "Come on in. I've got a bed for 'im."

Another crash of thunder. Jack jumped and whimpered a bit, slipping in quickly around the older man. Charlie could feel Jack's shoulders trembling. "Y'okay...?" His voice was weak and quiet, but steady. Thunder used to frighten him, but it quickly turned to comfort as he grew. It kept him company on the most quiet nights.

Jack shrugged his shoulders and laughed, nervous. "Yeah, I'm fine! It just -- Caught me off guard, ya know? It was real loud I wasn't expectin' it!" He stepped to one side, holding him tighter. 

Charlie's lips twitched up into the smallest smile. "Yeah... It was pretty loud." He leaned his head to the side, nuzzling into Jack's dark hair and closing his eyes again. It was getting harder to stay awake now and this was so comfortable -- For the first time in his life, he felt safe.

"You ain't scared... Is you?" Jack asked, biting his lip. Charlie felt him begin to walk again, but his eyes wouldn't open. 

"No." Charlie's voice was barely audible now, wrapped in the safety of this impossible boy's arms. He felt Jack's shoulders tense a bit, lacing false bravery into them. 

"Good. Ain't nothin' to be afraid of." Jack spoke softly now, a gentle waver in his words. Charlie could tell -- As young as they both were, that Jack tried so hard to be fearless around people. He was a leader. Charlie's heart fluttered. Had he actually made a friend? For the first time, did someone actually care about him? Maybe he wasn't as bad as his parents had said after all.

"Heya Jack! Whoa!! Who's that, huh?" A small voice chimed in over the sound of rain hitting the windows.

"Hey!! You're back! You gonna stay the night? Ohh! A new kid!" Another voice.

"Ahh, Jack!! I'm glad your here! Did'ja hear the thunda?" A third voice shuddered. "It sounds real bad..."

"Hey, it's gonna be alright! It's just a little storm. Nothin' to worry about." Jack assured, though he himself doubted that. Another clap of thunder. This time, it shook the whole building. The small group of boys yipped and gathered close, hovering close together. Jack's shoulders trembled, but he straightened and took a deep breath. "Alright boys, quiet down. It's just thunder. It can't hurt you. 'Sides..." 

Charlie was fading fast. Everyone's words sounded slurred, muddied together. He tried to make sense of what he could.

"Who is it?" Asked one quiet voice.

"I found -- real sick." It was Jack's voice.

"--'s a matter -- his leg?" Another one.

"Pipe down Race! -- Ya he's --" He couldn't focus anymore. He felt his heart slow, his breathing steady, his muscles relax. He let himself fall into the blankness of his mind. If he didn't wake up, at least he got at least these few moments with -- A friend.

\---------

Six.

Charlie slept more than he was awake. He couldn't remember much -- How many days had it been? He would open his eyes for a few minutes and take in his surrounding. Nothing much -- A small window over his head in the brick wall behind him, the rest was white curtains. They surrounded him, hiding him from the view of anyone who could possibly walk by. He wasn't allowed to see anyone aside from the few nurses and doctors that would come and go, but he knew he wasn't alone. When he could stay awake, he heard other boys coughing, getting sick or crying. 

He opened his eyes to see the sun shine through that small window and when he opened them again -- Darkness. It was like he was being turned on then off over and over and over again. His leg ached, his stomach was in knots, his head throbbed, his throat burned. His eyes were sunken in, his freckled cheeks hollowed. He heard a doctor say that he didn't have much hope. He gave him a few days at most --

Charlie didn't know what that meant. 

One night -- Jack snuck in.

"Charlie?" His voice was hushed and gentle. 

"Mmnn..." Charlie groaned, carefully shaken out of his sleep. He opened his tired and weak eyes and forced his head to the side to meet Jack's gaze.

He smiled. "How're you doin'?" 

What could he say to Jack? Friends were supposed to be honest with each other right? Though, was he even right to call Jack a friend? Could he be so bold to do something like that, to even think something like that? Did he deserve Jack's friendship when he had nothing to give in return? His friendship wasn't worth anything to anyone. He'd never even had a friend before.

He closed his eyes again, taking in a weak and rattling breath. "Okay." Was all he said. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth. He was only six -- How was he meant to explain the crippling pain he felt every single time he was awake. How could he begin to tell this other boy, this boy so wise for his age, that he didn't understand what the doctors meant when they said they had no hope. No hope for what? For him to get better? For him to walk again? For him to have friends or family? "I'm scared." He felt his eyes burn, tears threatened from behind his eyelids. He didn't know why he said it.

"Hey -- Don't worry 'bout it!" Jack gently hit Charlie's small shoulder with a small fist, playful. "You's is gonna get better an' when you do, you can meet all the fellas! We's gonna show you 'round and teach you games! We'll all be great friends." Charlie felt Jack climb up and onto the bed to sit next to him. "Ya know, my dad was kinda sick like this once. He got real tired, couldn't stay awake, he could hardly get up. But he got better after couple'a days."

Charlie couldn't move -- His entire body ached. "It ain't worth it." He was only six and somehow, he couldn't stop thinking that way. His parents made sure he remembered that he would be better off... Gone. That he was a mistake. A bad kid. 

"It is worth it." His tone turned serious. "My mother told me before she passed on, to always do what you are afraid to do." 

Charlie opened his eyes, tears falling.

"Just 'cause you're scared... Don't mean it ain't worth it to try. Charlie, I want you to get better! All the fellas, they's excited to meet you. You gotta get better, even though you're afraid." Jack set his hand against Charlie's matted, sweat dampened hair. "Try to be brave -- But if you can't, I'll be brave for you."

\-----------------------

Six.

Something Jack had said resonated with him. It was time for him to stop thinking the way he had been. It was time for him to get better -- To prove that he wasn't such a bad kid. He was going to be brave, was going to make friends, was going to make Jack proud. His first friend. 

The days were getting longer for Charlie. He was able to stay awake much longer, his appetite had returned, his cheeks filled back out. The dark circles under his eyes lightened, his skin regained it's color. He smiled more than a few times and his head stopped aching. Although -- His right leg was... Twisted and useless. The pain was present, but dull. Nothing he couldn't handle. They said he'd probably never be able to use his leg again but -- The doctor called him a miracle.

The curtain pulled back. 

"Charlie!" Jack stood next to the older man that had greeted him when he'd arrived that first day. "They say you can leave! You get to come be with us now!" He was beaming, his eyes glistened in the sunlight. "Now I can teach you how to play catch and how to sell a pape and --"

The man cut him off. "Settle down, boy. Let the kid breathe." He walked forward and set his hand on Charlie's head, comforting. "Feelin' better?"

Charlie looked up at the man, his eyes wide and full of wonder. Tenderness directed at him, from another adult? "Yes, sir." He quickly dropped his eyes, not wanting to let them linger on the man's face for too long.

"Good. You're under my care now. I'm Mr. Klopmann, I help run the Duane Street logdin' house." He gestured back to Jack. "I'll let Mr. Kelly fill you in on the rules of the house and leave it to him to show you 'round -- But if you need anything. You can come see me." He smiled down at Charlie and ruffled his hair. "You're safe here."

"Safe..." Charlie repeated, his eyes still on his lap. "Thank you, sir." He looked up at Klopmann and smiled. It lit up the entire room. 

"Don't mention it," he looked back at Jack who was holding something behind his back. "Jack."

Jack was quiet, examining Charlie's smiling face -- His cheeks were flushed.

"Jack." Klopmann cleared his throat.

"Oh! R - Right!" He stepped forward, and grinned. "We have a surprise for you."

"A 'prise?" Charlie looked to Jack, his head tilting to the side. 

"Close your eyes, and don't open them!"

Charlie obliged.

"Now hold out your hands." Charlie could hear the excitement in Jack's voice. He did as he was told.

Something long was set in his hands. It was hard, cool to the touch, sturdy, a little rough...

"Okay... Open them!"

Slowly, Charlie opened his eyes and looked down at his hands and the object in them. A long piece of wood with a handle. Padding at the top -- A giant red bow was tied around the middle, messy writing covered a piece of paper that dangled from that. What was this?

"It's a crutch! It's gonna help you walk!" Jack crossed his arms, beaming with pride in himself. "I mean -- It's gonna help you walk until you can walk all by yourself again!"

"Yeah..." Charlie examined the crutch, his small fingers feeling the bow and wandering down to grab at the paper that hanged from it. It said something but -- "What's it say?"

"Oh! Uh -- Haha..." Jack reached behind his head to rub at the back of his neck. "Well - See..." He walked up to him and pointed at the few words written in a sloppy hand. "It says," he pointed to each word as he said them out loud. "To Charlie. From Jack. And here --" He pointed to the last word, "Crutchie." Jack smiled and looked to Charlie's face. "Lots of the boys 'round here have nicknames, you know? Like -- Patrick? He's Finch. Benny goes by Buttons. It's fun! So I thought... Maybe you'd like to have one too, you know?"

"Crutchie?" He looked to Jack then back down at the crutch in his hands. 

"Yeah, I mean -- You ain't gotta use it! I just --"

"No. I -- I like it." Charlie looked up at him, smiled again and Jack's world stopped spinning.

"Really?" He smiled back, sticking his hands into his pockets. "Good!"

"Do... You got a nickname, too?" Charlie asked, bringing the crutch against his chest, cherishing it. His first gift.

"Sometimes they call me cowboy -- But mostly I'm just Jack." He was clearly proud of his nickname, his shoulders shrugged and his grin turned almost to snark.

"Cowboy?" Charlie perked up, hoping for more of his stories.

"Yeah! You know like Buffalo Bill!" Jack's grin widened. "Oh, kid I can't wait to show you my dime novels! The ol' man gets me a new one every couple weeks when he's got a little extra dough."

"I --" He stopped.

"Don't worry if you can't read yet. I'll teach you! We'll read the stories together. I'm still learnin' too, so it ain't nothin' to worry about. Charlie, you're gonna love 'em! There's one I got --"

Charlie listened with everything he had. He didn't even notice that Klopmann had left -- His eyes followed Jack's expressive movements and his smiles and frowns. He laughed when Jack used a silly voice when he'd recite a line. The sun moved in the sky -- He let himself get caught up in the adventures and the happiness that was painted across Jack's young face. He had managed to forget about his parents -- Forget the pain and his leg, forget being left on the street all those days ago. He forgot for a moment, that he was a bad kid. It was a beautiful feeling. His heart was full, but his stomach --

"Whoa, what was that?" Jack laughed and pointed at Charlie's thin frame. "You keepin' some sort of creature in there?" 

Charlie giggled, tilting his head down to hide his pink cheeks. "No -- I'm just a little hungry is all!" 

"Well, what are you waitin' for, huh?" He cocked his head back and took a step back and towards the door. "Let's get outta here."

Charlie watched him for a moment, a smile still reaching his eyes. "Yeah..." He turned to the side, his feet dangling over the edge of the bed. He held the crutch tight in his small hands and set it on the ground. Jack watched with bated breath and bit his lip, waiting patiently, ready to help if need be. Charlie breathed in deep, closed his eyes and slid off the bed, his feet landing gently on the ground beneath him. He cringed and stumbled as the weight on his right leg proved too much and it gave out, useless. Though -- he caught himself, using the crutch for support. 

Jack's brows were furrowed together, worried. "You got it?"

"Y - yeah." Charlie clenched his jaw and tried to take a step but stumbled again. "I just -- I gotta get used to it." He was going to make this work. Jack got this crutch for him, and if it weren't for him, Charlie would have given up and let himself fall asleep for good when he was sick. He wasn't going to fail Jack now. Another step. It was cleaner than the first two, but he still struggled to keep his balance.

"You ain't gotta... I can help!"

"No! No..." Charlie looked at him and smiled, nodding his head. "I got this!" His eyes were sparkling with a clear determination. "I can do it!" His heart beat faster -- Just take it slow. One moment at a time. He leaned his weight on the crutch and moved his left foot, then shifted and moved the crutch and his right -- "Hah!" 

Jack breathed and smiled, setting his hands on his hips. "Good job!"

Charlie's heart sang. "I got it... I got it!" Another step. Jack took another step back, watching him. "I can do it!" He took another step and another faster and cleaner each time before he came to a stop, right in front of his friend.

"Ahh, that's great Charlie!" Jack reached out and wrapped his arms around Charlie's small frame. "I'm proud of ya!"

He froze for a moment, but quickly regained himself and brought his arms up to return that warm embrace. "I couldn't have done it without you, Jack."

"No, Charlie. You did this on your own." He pulled away, his hands set firm on Charlie's shoulders. "You're amazing, kid."

He smiled again, his head dipping down to look at his feet not knowing how to reply. 

"Now come on. Let's go meet the fellas." Jack turned his back and started slowly out the door. 

Charlie stood still for a moment -- Letting himself have a moment to process, take it all in and prepare himself. This was the start of something completely new. Something better than what he had before. Something that was safe and kind and happy. 

"You comin'?" Jack had stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder, that now familiar grin on his face.

"Yeah!" Charlie nodded and limped forward, each one of his step now certain. Each step he could hear more and more -- There were boys waiting outside the door. He paused.

"Hah... Yeah -- They were real excited." Jack shrugged, "Hope it --" 

"Can it, Jack!" A small boy pushed past Jack and into the room, right up to Charlie. "Good to see ya'ain't dead." He crossed his arms, his light curls bouncing on his head. He had a cigar in his mouth. Charlie took a step back, taken a bit off guard.

"Yeah! It's about time you's awake! We all thought we wouldn' get ta meet'cha." Another boy joined the first. A slingshot stuck out of the hem of his pants. "I'm jus' glad I ain't the newest no more!"

"Guys back down! You don't wanna scare 'im!" A third boy, this one was wearing glasses, tall and wiry. 

"Um --" Charlie looked back and forth from each one of them then craned his neck trying to see Jack. He was so much smaller than the others he couldn't --

"Hey!" Jack's voice broke out over the other three. "I didn't tell you's you could could come up here and jus' start yellin' at him!" He pushed past the one with the cigar and stood in front of Charlie, protective.

"Hey, we weren't doin' nothin' wrong. We just wanted --"

"Cool it, Racer." Silence followed. 

"Jack I --" Charlie spoke quietly, peeking out from behind him. "I'm okay." A smile --

The room brightened again. All of the boys held their breath.

"Well then." The boy with the slingshot stepped forward, spitting in, and offering his hand. "The name's Finch. Ain't no one can match my aim." 

Charlie stepped out from behind Jack and nodded, still cautious. "Finch..." He thought for a moment, then spit in his own palm. He took Finch's hand and gave it a weak shake.

"The name's Racetrack Higgins." The boy with the cigar pulled Finch back, and grinned. "You can call me Race if you want." He sniffed and shrugged his shoulders. "You need anythin' you can come talk to me. I'll take care of it for ya. Ain't nothin' I'm afraid of."

"And --" The third, and tallest of all of them came forward, waving softly. "I'm Specs." He tilted his glasses and smiled. "If he bothers you at all," he gestured to Race and raised his brow. "Come get me. I know how to deal with this wise guy."

"What's that supposed'ta mean, huh?" Race turned to Spec, puffing out his chest.

Specs laughed in response and pat his head. "I'm jokin' Racer, take a breath."

"And when these two guys get into it, you always got me. We can watch the show together." Finch nudged Charlie's shoulder and chuckled, shaking his head. "Me, I never get into this stuff."

"Finch, don't act like you don't sit in the bunks at night and shoot rocks at us just to start fights." Race pointed his cigar at the brunette. 

"I wouldn't ever do somethin' like that! It's gotta be them bed bugs bitin' you. Maybe try to wash your socks more, huh? Maybe they wont keep attackin' ya." He swatted at his nose and grimaced. "I can smell them through your shoes."

"Oh sure, Finch, sure! Don't try to act like you're a tough guy now. You were cryin' like a baby the other night when you couldn't find that thing." Race tried to snatch the slingshot from Finch's waist, but stumbled when he took a step back.

"Now this, kid --" Specs stuck his hands in his pockets and laughed. "This is good stuff!"

"Yeah okay, Racer. You won't be laughin' when Klopmann finds out you been chewin' on cigars again."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wanna try me?"

Charlie laughed when Race wrapped an arm around Finch and held him down. They struggled against each other, mumbling words Charlie couldn't understand. This was a game to them -- It was easy for him to see the difference between how his parents had treated him and how they were treating each other. This was fun, playful. Now he got to experience it, too. His heart fluttered and his cheeks began to hurt from smiling. "Fellas! Be nice!"

Jack stood back watching them, watching Charlie and smiled. He knew Charlie would be a good fit. As soon as he found him on the street he knew he had the potential to brighten up everyone's day -- And when he smiled, Charlie proved him right. He deserved the chance to be happy just as the rest of these boys did. Jack beamed at them. He couldn't wait for Charlie to see the world. To see things how they were meant to be seen. To not have to live in fear anymore. "Alright kids -- Let's get goin'."

"Hey we ain't done here yet, Kelly." Race held up a hand to stop Jack's words of protest. "He ain't even told us his name yet."

Charlie blinked and looked back at Jack quickly before regarding the others once more. "Oh I -- I'm sorry." He let his lip crack another small smile, another smile to make Jack's breath catch. "I'm Crutchie."


End file.
